


and when you're close, i feel like coming undone

by theyellowumbrella



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyellowumbrella/pseuds/theyellowumbrella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You press a kiss to my bare shoulder, nuzzling your nose into it gently. I still as you kiss up from my shoulder to my neck and jaw. The kisses are chaste, not necessarily romantic but comforting. You allow your lips to linger at the spot right below my jaw, just beside my earlobe. It’s moments like these that I want to treasure forever, because despite all of the other Bellas running around downstairs, it’s like we’re the last people in the world.</p><p>(or: five kisses between Beca and Chloe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when you're close, i feel like coming undone

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to change up the way I wrote this. I like it but I understand if it's not to everyone's taste.
> 
> Title is from Untouchable by Taylor Swift.

**1.**

The first kiss is always the best.

I’m lying at the foot of your bed, head moving in time to the song that you’re listening to, and you’re curled up at your pillows. There’s a textbook lying beside you but your eyes are on me, staring intently and never once faltering.

There’s something about this look that’s different. I’m not sure what — I never know with you — but it’s enough to fill me with nerves.

“What?” I ask, frowning at you. Your expression remains the same.

“Nothing,” is your reply, and you move down the bed so that you’re on your stomach beside me.

Our faces are mere inches apart and it’s moments like these that I have to remind myself to breathe or else my body will forget, and the fact that your mouth is so close to mine is making my lungs threaten to give up. These moments occur often and I’ve never questioned them before, but —

Oh.

I’m going to move back, or sit up, or turn my head — anything so that I’m not almost touching your lips — but then you’re moving forward and brushing your lips against mine.

It’s not deep or fiery or intense. It’s not something I could write novels about or describe in intimate detail. It doesn’t have fireworks or explosions or flashing lights.

It’s ultimately _Chloe_ and it’s possibly my favourite thing in the world.

**2.**

We’re not dating.

We’re not together, I’m not your girlfriend, and it’s not a thing.

Except for the fact that you look at me now and a part of myself sets itself on fire when our eyes meet, because blue has never looked so beautiful.

We’re best friends, we’re captains and we’re _not_ girlfriends.

(My heart aches).

Fat Amy still makes jokes about us, though, and Stacie still calls us Mom and Dad, and I see the way your breath hitches when Jesse puts his arm around my waist.

Jesse, my boyfriend, who is as permanent as they come. I tell myself — and you — that the kiss was nothing more than getting caught up in the moment, but, well, it _wasn’t_. You agree but I see the way you clutch at the bottle of water in your hands; like you’re trying to squeeze the life out of it.

And one day, it’s the end of rehearsal and you’re making your way through the Bellas with gleaming eyes and a smile as bright as the sun, and I’m standing at the other end just a little awkwardly watching you. You kiss all of the girls on the cheek gently — you’re Chloe and you’re affectionate and none of us have ever thought to question it — and ignore it when Amy squirms and Lilly snaps her teeth at you. You make it to me eventually and I see your hesitation in the way your shoulders tense, but you must understand that if you choose not to kiss me too, it would look weirder than doing it.

So you lean in and try to press a quick kiss to my cheek, but miss and end up hitting the corner of my mouth. Neither of us say anything, but I know that you noticed it.

**3.**

College parties are your favourite thing and my least.

You drag us all to one at least twice a month and I always protest, but it always ends the same way: at a college party in one of your borrowed dresses, usually with Jesse on my arm.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Jesse is standing beside me in a white shirt and a pair of jeans and you’re wearing your favourite dress, and you look so beautiful that I cannot breathe for a minute. You’re a little tipsy already, judging by the way you’ve managed to trip over your own feet twice and keep twirling my hair between your fingers (actually, though, the latter is Sober Chloe behaviour as well).

“C’mon, Becs,” you say when we get to the party. “You have to come dance with me.”

Jesse is abandoned and so are the Bellas and all I can really focus on is the way you’re pressed up against me. I know that people are watching as you practically grind on me, and I want so badly to make you stop, but there’s also the part of me that wants nothing more than for you to continue.

Spin the Bottle is fun in theory, but in practice it’s just … not.

So when you giggle and spin the bottle with all of your enthusiasm and it lands on me, your eyes fall and mine do, too, and I’m sure nobody notices it but as soon as our eyes meet it’s as if I’m underwater; struggling to breathe and stay afloat.

“On you go, Becs!” Jesse yells from beside me, his breath smelling of the tequila you’d poured him earlier. I look at him in incredulity; how can he not have a problem with this?

Everyone is cheering and trying to get us to kiss, but I shrink away. I can see how you’ve sobered; your eyes have sharpened and your arms are crossed over your stomach.

We’re still best friends, but something is monumentally different.

Stacie pushes me up to the centre of the circle and I can see Amy shoving you as well, and in this moment it strikes me that this is really going to happen. I shuffle closer to you and you get up on your knees.

I wonder, briefly, if we can get away with a quick peck. One that can be passed off as friendly. Of course, it doesn’t take long for me to remember the way Donald had grinned earlier tonight and said that the kiss had to last at least ten seconds.

I lean in and capture your bottom lip between my teeth, pulling you closer to me. I can hear the whoops and cheers it elicits, but it all becomes background automatically.

As soon as our lips meet I see _fire_.

None of it matters anymore. Not Jesse, who is laughing and catcalling at the sight of us; not Aubrey, who is sitting next to Stacie on the floor with pursed lips; not Stacie herself who is grinning and pointing and laughing (and, a few seconds later, whispering something into Aubrey’s ear that makes her flush).

You slowly drag your tongue across my bottom lip, doing it carefully as though you’re afraid of messing up. I steady myself with hands placed gently on your hips, and I try not to think about how right this feels.

I pull back because if I don’t, I’m afraid I never will.

“I want to go home,” I tell Jesse when we’ve parted and he doesn’t question me on it at all.

(I see the way he looks at you, though, and his eyes scream that he _knows_ ).

**4.**

I’m lying on my bed, knees drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. You’re curled up behind me, head buried in my shoulder and legs mirroring my position.

“I broke up with Jesse,” I whisper.

You already know, but it seems to mean something else entirely this time around. I can feel you tense behind me, can feel the way your breath on my neck _stops_ , as if you stop breathing as soon as I say it.

“I know,” is all you say in reply.

“Chloe,” I whisper, like I’m looking for an answer. “I broke up with him because …”

The words die in my throat, but you seem to understand.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, I know.”

You press a kiss to my bare shoulder, nuzzling your nose into it gently. I still as you kiss up from my shoulder to my neck and jaw. The kisses are chaste, not necessarily romantic but comforting. You allow your lips to linger at the spot right below my jaw, just beside my earlobe. It’s moments like these that I want to treasure forever, because despite all of the other Bellas running around downstairs, it’s like we’re the last people in the world.

I turn around so that I’m facing you, and it’s just like our first kiss. Our lips are practically touching and I can feel your breath on my face.

“I love you.”

You kiss me — soft and gentle, just like you — and I kiss you back, and it isn’t perfect but it’s _us_.

**5.**

The music starts playing, everybody rises and Stacie pushes me to turn around. A smile immediately takes over my features as soon as I see you — how could it not? — and it widens when I see one similar on yours.

You walk towards me, graceful as ever, and I wonder briefly how you’re doing this without tripping. I know that if it were me in your position, I’d already be lying face-down on the floor and the day would be ruined.

You reach me, eyes twinkling, and take my hand in yours. Aubrey is standing beside you, smiling at me despite our grievances (although I suspect that might have something to do with the grinning Stacie by my side).

“Hey, there,” you say, rubbing the palm of my hand with your thumb gently.

“Hi,” I reply, letting out a breathy chuckle.

I watch intently as you listen to what the woman’s saying, lips turning up unconsciously at certain things she says. I trace your face with my eyes as you speak, repeating her every word; my eyes go over your cheekbones, dip down the slope of your nose, trace the tiny scar on your forehead — the one that proves you’re not entirely perfect (although I still beg to differ). I speak when it is my turn but feel bad in the back of my mind because I know that when I look back on this day in years to come, all I’m going to remember is the way your lips curve towards the sky and your eyes shine brighter than I’ve ever seen.

“I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss the — oh!”

I kiss you before she has the time to finish. You’re grinning against my mouth, lips tasting of cherry Coke and your signature vanilla chapstick, and it’s like we’re the only people here. There are loud laughs and cheers and everyone sounds so _happy_.

This is without a doubt the best day of my life, and it’s definitely got everything to do with the way you keep kissing me repetitively (like it’s your life’s mission).

**Author's Note:**

> come yell with me: stacie-conrads.tumblr.com


End file.
